Ginny Weasley and the Secret Enchantment
by hid6qoh
Summary: This is Ginny's story. After Harry dumps her after Dumbledore's funeral, she seeks comfort in another - Hermione. But life moves on, and -after summer - so does Hermione. How will Ginny survive Snape's Hogwarts? Will she?
1. A Wonderful Night

Pull yourself together, Ginny, I tell myself solemnly. He's just another boy. You've been through enough of _those_ over the past few years. But, deep down, I know this wasn't just another boy. It was Harry Potter, my childhood crush since about forever. My boyfriend - until about five minutes ago, anyway - Harry just broke up with me. I suppose I should have seen this coming. He's 'The Chosen One', the Boy who Lived, the hero of the magical world. And I'm just me. Ginny Weasley. Youngest of seven. An insignificant little girl compared to the_ famous_ Harry Potter.

I've seen the accusing stares. _What's Harry Potter doing with her?_ Harry had always told me he wasn't bothered, that he just wanted to be with me. But that was a lie. Because today, barely an hour after Dumbledore's funeral, he broke up with me. Sure, he said it wasn't safe, that he would be putting me in danger. Who does he think he is anyway? How does he know what's right for me?

"Any time you like, dear."

The Fat Lady's voice jolts me out of my reverie; my aimless walking has taken me to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady stands before me, tapping her foot impatiently.

"I - sorry," I mutter distractedly. For a moment, I think about going for another walk, but I can't face anyone right now. I just want to go to sleep and pretend things are like they were a week ago, before my world turned upside down. "_Menon Legistis."_

The portrait hole swings open. For the first time in my five years at Hogwarts, the common room is deserted. Everyone is enjoying the sun in the grounds, no doubt. I suppose it's just as well I'm in here; on days like this, I tend to turn into a giant freckle. Slowly, as if in a daze, I cross the room. I walk up the stairs, trying to avoid the ghosts of all the times I've sat with Harry in here, laughed with him, kissed him …

As I approach my dormitory, I hear laughter. I turn round and head further up the stairs. My friends might be good for a laugh and a gossip, but they wouldn't understand right now. I head for the deserted room at the top of the stairs. The seventh years have all left now, so their room is empty. As I reach the door, however, I hear a peculiar sound from inside: the tweeting of birds…

I open the door and peek my head round. Hermione is sitting on a bed, her back to me, little yellow birds flying round her head. Involuntarily, I smile. Hermione, my best friend, who's always been there for me when I've needed her. She hasn't noticed me yet. I ease the door open, and sit down next to her. Startled, she glances at me, and breaks into that warm smile I love to see. But even without me saying anything, she can see that I'm upset.

"What's the matter?" she asks, her voice soothing even as she wraps a warm arm around me. I notice that she's still wearing her dress from the funeral. Low-cut and strapless, a deep, mournful purple colour that brings out her eyes, it's the sort of thing she never would wear. But I picked it out for her, and cajoled her into wearing it last Christmas. Since then, she's worn it any chance she's got. It's a good choice.

"Harry told me you two had finished. Is that it?" Hermione prods.

I give a weak nod. She pulls me closer into a full hug, arms wrapped tightly around me.

"Don't worry about it, Gin'. It's just too risky for him to be with you just now."

I glare at her angrily, tears that I had been holding back suddenly flooding my eyes.

"Why should he decide? I have a say too!" I exclaim, almost shouting.

To her credit, Hermione doesn't attempt to stop me. She just holds me tighter.

"Do you want to lie down?" Hermione murmurs after what feels like a lifetime. I nod weakly. She gently places me down on the bed and drapes the cover over me.

"Wait," I say as she begins to turn away. "Stay with me. Please."

* * *

I wake with Hermione's warm body next to me. I glance at the window; it's now dark outside. Beside me, I feel Hermione's body stirring softly. I roll over to face her.

"Hey. Feel better?" she asks.

"A lot."

Hermione inches closer to me; she grabs my hand. Her hand is warm and soft. Harry's were always so rough.

"Are you sure?" she asks. Another inch forward. Our noses are practically touching.

"Yeah, much better," I say, not knowing what she's doing. She reaches out a hand and brushes my hair away from my face.

"I always loved your hair," she says. I'm not sure how to reply.

"Hermi-"

Our noses touch and she pulls away. I squeeze her hand.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

She looks away. I reach out a hand and turn her face towards me. She's almost crying. Hermione's always so private, so calm. What's got her this way?

"It's ju-it's just-" she stammers. Suddenly I know what to do. I lean forward, and kiss her lightly on the lips. At her look of shock, I pull back, but then it's replaced by that glowing smile I love. I pull her close, so close I can smell her perfume, feel her breath, and I kiss her again. More passionately this time. My hand drifts from her cheek to her hair, then to her neck. I can feel her smiling through the kiss, and we know this is right. My hands clumsily make their way to the zip of Hermione's dress. It won't come down. A wave of fear rushes through me. What if Hermione laughs at me? Thinks I'm no good? Tells me I'm a stupid little girl? But her warm hands guide my shaky ones, and I get her dress unzipped. I pull it down as she tries to undo my cardigan, and we bump into each other.

"This is the worst seduction of all time," I mutter. Hermione places a finger on my lips.

"Shhh. Don't talk. Just let me."

So I stay still as she shrugs off her dress. I had never looked at Hermione in this way, but she is very attractive. Her breasts are bigger than mine, but that's not hard; her real attributes are her legs. Long and tanned, with irresistible thighs that lure you in. I'm sure my jaw must be hanging loose, like in those cartoons you get in the _Sunday Prophet._ She is wearing- hold on-

"Those are my pants!" I exclaim.

Black, with silver sequins, they were my most raunchy piece of attire. They'd been missing for weeks. She just smirks, and does a little sort of half pirouette, almost waving her bum at me.

"Stop messing about," I snap playfully.

I pull my cardigan over my head, jump up, and drag Hermione back to the bed.

"Wait a second."

"What now?" Hermione moans as she unbuttons my shirt, eyes focused on the bra beneath it. "What if someone comes in?"

I don't think Hermione hears me, as she reaches a hand inside my skirt.

"I'll just –Whoa!-lock it."

I struggle to say the words as Hermione pulls my pants off, then eagerly thrusts a finger into my vagina. I reach for my wand, murmur 'Colloportus', and that's it.

"THAT'S IT!" I cry as Hermione slides two more fingers in. I shrug my shirt off, and focus on removing Hermione's bra. Where's the clasp? God, I'm useless at this.

"It's a frontsie," Hermione whispers as she removes her fingers and slides my skirt off. I begin to reach round, but Hermione stops me.

"No, use your teeth," she says.

"What if my lip gets caught in the clasp?" I ask without thinking. Merlin, just shut up Ginny.

So here we lie together, Hermione on top, me underneath, clumsiness and awkwardness and eagerness personified. Hermione has somehow got my bra off, so I am completely naked. Hermione has a hungry look in her eye that I've only seen when she opens a new book. She kisses me again, probing my mouth with her tongue. I respond, meeting her tongue with my own. Before I can get too into the kiss, she breaks it off and starts working her way down my body.

She traces her way down my neck with her tongue. I moan half-heartedly to 'stop teasing me', but she pays no attention. She reaches my breasts. She delicately squeezes my right breast, playing with it. I know she's toying with me. She has her head between my breasts. Her hair is tickly: I suppress a laugh. Suddenly she starts nibbling my nipple with her teeth. A wave of sheer pleasure passes through me as she licks and caresses my nipples.

She starts to get a firmer grip with her teeth. This is starting to really hurt, but it feels _so_ good. I find myself holding onto Hermione's bum for dear life as my whole body shakes with the sheer sensation of it. I suddenly decide to take some control back. I reach for Hermione's pants (they are _so_ mine) and rip them off her. Hermione stops for a second. That second is all I need. I push her up into the air and roll her over.

Now I am on top. I go for her bra with my teeth, no regard for lip injuries. Somehow I get it open quickly. Now there is a sight for sore eyes. Hermione's breasts, so deliciously round and firm and, well,_ petite_. But I've got bigger gnomes to throw. I trace a finger down her body, from her neck down to her-

"Well, someone's been using Sleekit's Hair Removal cream," I say wryly.

I slip a finger into her vagina. With my other hand I start frantically rubbing pretty much everywhere else down there. Like I said, I'm inexperienced at this sort of thing. Tentatively, I lower my head and stick my tongue into her vagina. I've heard that's what people do. Hermione lets out a deep catlike moan, and arches her back. That must be good. Getting into a more comfortable position, I start licking her vagina, while also exploring her body with my hands.

As I stick my tongue in deeper and deeper, Hermione starts yelping in a high-pitched tone. I slide two fingers in as well for good measure. With my other hand, I squeeze her breasts. She seems to like it. I take my fingers out and start rubbing her clitoris again. She's moaning constantly now. I increase the pace, licking deeper and deeper while massaging her breasts. I slide my hand down to her bum. Hermione is shaking now.

I stick my fingers back in, three of them. Suddenly Hermione starts to scream. I lower my head back down to her vagina, wondering if something has gone wrong. I stick my tongue in again, and Hermione screams louder. She grasps my hair, holding on to the bed with the other hand as if we were about to take off. She arches her back, moans once more, then lies flat on the bed. I feel something warm and sticky on my tongue.

"Ooohhh!" I exclaim. I look at Hermione. She lies there, eyes closed. Is she dead? She sits up and kisses me.

"Don't, I've got weird stuff in my mouth," I say. She laughs, and manoeuvres me somehow so I'm on my back.

"I like the weird stuff."

* * *

Gradually, I wake up. I lie confused for a second, wondering why I am not in my dormitory with my Holyhead Harpies bedsheets. My head is resting on some sort of weird pillow…My eyes snap open. Hermione is lying next to me. My head is nuzzled between her breasts, our bodies intertwined so that I can't tell what's her and what's me. Her legs are wrapped around me, as if to protect me. I am in shock. _What was I thinking?_ _Hermione?_ She's a girl. I've never been attracted to girls. Even in second year, when all my friends were experimenting with each other, I stayed clear. There's always been a strong taboo in the magical world against homosexuality, especially among pure-bloods; there's just so few of us left.

And yet… Hermione _is _beautiful. And smart, and brave. If she was a boy, girls would be fighting wand and fist for her. I can't face this right now. I roll away from Hermione, agonisingly aware of her golden legs sliding past mine, her lovely breasts inches away from my face. Unwanted memories flash up from last night. Hermione, moaning softly as I licked and caressed her vagina. Me, shaking as Hermione took my nipple in her mouth. Hermione on top of me, rubbing her vagina against mine. Lying for hours, just holding each other, talking, laughing, kissing.

I stand up, searching the room for my pants. Where are they? Giving them up for lost, I quickly slide into my skirt and throw on my cardigan. I just want to get out. Hopefully no one has noticed my absence. My hand reaches the door handle. I gently twist it, cringing at the creaking noise-I hear Hermione stir behind me.

"Ginny? Where are you going?"

I don't turn round. I ease the door open.

"Ginny, I- I love you."

_That_ stops me in my tracks. I slowly turn around. Hermione is sitting up, equal amounts of pleading and desperation on her face.

"Hermione, I-"

The words stick in my throat.

"Thanks for a wonderful night," I mumble weakly as the door slams shut. For some reason, I'm almost crying. Blinking back the tears, I head downstairs, and don't look back.

* * *

**So here it is, the whole 80,000 word monstrosity - or at least it will be, once I've finished reposting it. Just remember that I wrote this story over about three years, and I had _literally _no idea where I was going the entire time. It started out as one-shot smut, then became this wannabe epic romance, then a school rebellion story, then teen drama, then proper fanfic for a bit; then it all fell to crap at the end. This time, I'm going to try to improve things/prune the stuff that was _too_ stupid as I go along, so stick with it and see how it goes. **


	2. The Hogwarts Express

Well, _that _was an awkward summer. Still - somehow - I managed to get through it in one piece. I don't think I could say the same about Hermione and I's relationship, however. We're still friendly enough, but there's something between us now. I know she still wants me. As for myself...I just don't know. Anyway, here I am; back at Platform 9³⁄₄ for my sixth year at Hogwarts.

"Bloody muggles. The scum are everywhere."

"They should all be rounded up 'sfar as I'm concerned."

As I walk through the entrance to Platform 9³⁄₄, I'm greeted by two lovely-mannered, well-dressed, conventionally handsome young wizards, who are all too happy to help a young woman carry her belongings. _If this is Opposite Land._ Which it isn't. _Opposite Land is in Norway. __Worst summer holiday ever._ In the _real_ world, I'm greeted by two mumbling, glaring, drunken scruffs with a silver 'Ministry of Magic' badge pinned to their chest. They block the way.

"What'choo got 'ere then, little lady?" says the taller of the pair with a leer. He picks up my suitcase from my trolley and shakes it around his ear, to the great amusement of his companion.

"Nothing you haven't seen a hundred times today," I say coolly. The taller one puts down my suitcase and leans over me menacingly.

"You better watch that mouth, _girly_, or we might have to take you in for _questioning._"

The short one smirks. I try to make myself look imposing.

"I'd like to see you try."

They laugh. _I hate being small._ My hand rests on top of my wand. I begin to slide it out of my pocket…

"What is the meaning of this?"

_Dad_.

"I am a Ministry representative," he continues, stepping forward to my side. "What's going on here?"

They exchange a worried look; the taller one sighs.

"Nuffink. Move on then, girly."

I begin to move past, but the shorter one holds out a hand to stop me.

"What _now_?" I ask with an air of exasperation. His eyes narrow.

"I recognise you lot." Mum has just come through the barrier. "You're them Weasleys, ain't you? Blood traitors and Mudblood lovers the lot of you!"

My wand hand twitches as anger flares in me, but I just control myself.

"So what if we are?" I say, stepping aside of my trolley and approaching his face. "Does that have any effect on your ability to let us onto the _damn _platform?"

He seems to notice that there is a queue of angry-looking faces building behind us.

"Hurry up then. You're causing a scene," says the tall one. Before I can retort, Mum and Dad usher me forward onto the platform.

"Things really have changed," I mutter. Mum and Dad exchange a look.

"Now, listen Ginny, about this year at Hogwarts…" Mum begins.

"I know, I know. Stay away from Snape. Stay away from Slytherins. Stay away from Hufflepuffs."

"We-never told you to stay away from Hufflepuffs."

"I added that one in. They annoy me."

Dad stifles a grin, but Mum doesn't look amused.

"I am deadly serious, Ginny! This could be a matter of life and death!"

"Relax, Mum. Nobody's going to get killed at Hogwarts! It's still a school."

"A school run by Death Eaters," says Dad. "A school run by the man who _killed _Dumbledore and who answers directly to You-Know-Who. This won't just be another year. There will likely be an extensive Slytherin bias, a focus on the Dark Arts, medieval punishment methods. You know what Ron is doing. What if they decide to take you as retribution for something he's done, or will do?"

"Then why am I even going!?" My voice is raised. "I'll stay at home, I'll help out."

For a second, Mum and Dad look sorely tempted. For a second.

"N-No. You need to continue your education, and we need to keep up appearances. For all our sakes," says Dad. He sounds confident, but I can see doubt and hesitancy in his eyes. _For all he knows, he could be sending his daughter to her death._

"Well," Mum says in a falsely cheery tone of voice. "Better get your stuff on the train. Arthur, could you-?"

"Of course, Molly." He carries my suitcase onto the train, staggering slightly. I'm left with Mum. For about twenty seconds, there's an awkward silence.

On the pretence of going to greet a friend, I leave my mother's side and walk along the platform. _There's hardly anybody here._ Guess there were more Muggle-borns at Hogwarts than I'd realised. I look for a familiar face, any face, but I don't recognise anybody. It must be my imagination, but there seem to be more Slytherins than ever. Their smug, sneaky, ferrety faces surround me as I turn round and round, looking for Luna, or Neville or _someone._

I get a few dodgy looks, mostly from older students who know who I am, who I'm friends with. I hear the words '_Harry Potter_' whispered several times. I give up and return to my parents, stopping to give my best intimidating stare to a particularly ugly second year. At least Malfoy's gone.

"Everything alright?" asks Dad as I return.

"Yeah, fine," I reply non-committally. "Better get on the train, then."

Mum pulls me into a massive hug.

"You look after yourself, okay?"

"When don't I?"

"Don't get in trouble. No _Dumbledore's Army _stuff."

"Of course not," I lie.

"If anything happens, if you need to get out…"

"I _won't_, Mum."

"But if you do…"

"Come on Molly, let her breathe."

The train's whistle begins to sound. I turn to Dad.

"Dad…sorry, there's no time…"

"Don't worry about it." I step into the carriage, but Dad catches hold of my arm and leans in close.

"You'll write to us when you get there?" The unspoken message; _tell us how bad it is._

"Sure, I'll use Pig."

The train doors slide shut, and slowly, we begin to move off. As I wave to them through the window, a sense of melancholy sets over me.

"Hello Ginny. You're looking glum," says a familiar voice from behind me.

"Great to see you, Luna!" I say, embracing her, my glumness suddenly forgotten.

"You really shouldn't do that, Ginny, direct human to human contact is how they spread."

"How what spread?" I ask, putting on a wide eyed expression of curiosity.

"The Blood-Sucking-"

I never get to hear what deadly creatures I've just been infected with, as the train rounds a sharp bend and we both stumble against the wall.

"Maybe we should find a carriage," I suggest.

"Good idea."

* * *

"What do you mean, what next?" asks Seamus. "We're done, the DA's finished. We've lost Harry, Ron and Hermione!"

Neville shakes his head.

"It was never about them. It was about fighting back! Fighting against Umbridge, against You-Know-Who, and now Snape. We don't need Harry to do that. That doesn't stop now. Not ever. Not till Hogwarts is ashes and we all lie dead in the ground!"

_A cheery sentiment._ But the other members of the carriage are looking around, impressed at Neville's speech. Luna, Seamus, Neville, Hannah Abbott, all the members of the DA. _All the ones left.__Well, apart from Smith._

"Hear, hear," calls Ernie MacMillan. I notice that the members of the DA are looking at Neville, Luna and I, sitting at the front of the carriage, like they used to look at Harry, Ron and Hermione. _I wonder who I am in that scenario_. Well, Neville's the charismatic leader (four words I never thought I'd ever hear in a row); Luna's the smart one…

_Oh my god, I'm Ron._

I decide to speak my mind.

"Look, Neville, this talk of 'fighting back' and 'lying dead in the ground' is all well and good, but what exactly are we going to do? We can't just start…attacking people! Students _or _teachers."

Am I the voice of reason in this group? What has the world come to?

"Sorry, teachers? With an 's'?" This from Terry Boot.

"There are two Death Eaters teaching at Hogwarts this year," I say. A murmur runs through the group.

"_Relax._ It won't be any of the good ones! It'll be two mouth-breathing morons that only got in because they were someone's cousin!" I say. Neville joins in.

"Exactly! We've operated under Umbridge's nose for months! We've fought Death Eaters!"

"Actually," Luna says, "That was just Ginny, me and Neville. The rest of you were in bed."

I smirk.

We're rudely interrupted by the trolley lady. _Some things never change._ Seeing the golden Galleon in my hand, she turns to me.

"What'll it be dear?"

"Oh. Sorry, this is my…lucky Galleon. I can't afford anything." She leans towards me in a conspiratorial manner.

"You're the Weasley girl, aren't you? I nod.

"Have this, on me." She turns to her trolley and retrieves a large box, filled with every type of sweet imaginable.

"Oh no, I couldn't…"

"Make sure to share them out to all your little friends, now." She gives me a grandmotherly smile, and moves on to the next carriage.

"Right, who died?" I quip, but I'm actually rather touched. It makes me feel like everything old and traditional is supporting us to overthrow the new. _Very poetic, Ginny. Shut up._

Stuffed with six chocolate frogs, three packets of Bertie Botts' and some Droobles, I lazily lean against the window.

* * *

"Hey, Ginny." Neville tries to get my attention. I've been staring out of the window, keeping an eye out for the castle looming in the distance.

"Uhh - yeah?" I mumble, drooling slightly. "What?"

"You think anyone in your year will want to get involved in the DA? Now that Colin's not coming back, it's just you from sixth year."

I shake my head.

"Not a very good batch, my year."

"If you'd just ask them-"

"Neville, it takes a special something to do what we do. They don't have it. Most of them that were here today don't have it. They'll be enthusiastic at the start, but it'll wear off. And then they're just loose ends."

"We can't recruit anyone anyway," Seamus points out.

"How?"

"No more coins. And we don't have Hermione anymore to make them."

"That reminds me," says Neville. "Do you have Harry's coin, the original one? 'Cause without that, they're useless anyway."

I dig around in my pocket.

"Yeah, here it is." I hold it up. "Anything you want me to put?"

"Can I see it?"

"Sorry, Neville, but I promised my parents I'd keep hold of it at all times."

Luna, who's been staring into space this whole time, turns round.

"Why's that?"

I hold it up again.

"This, is my ticket out of Hogwarts if things go, to quote a charming Muggle man I passed in King's Cross, tits up."

Seamus nearly chokes on the chocolate frog he'd just crammed into his mouth.

"My dad has a coin, so does Lupin. If the situation becomes untenable (_Thanks Hermione_) they'll pick me up in Honeydukes."

"Out of the-"

"One-eyed witch, yes."

"Oh look, there's Hogwarts!" Luna interrupts, pointing out of the window from her corridor seat. I press my face to the window; sure enough, there it is, looming large on the horizon. We'll be there in half an hour. Maybe I'll just shut my eyes for a moment...


	3. Bad Dreams

Hermione smiles coyly at me, then retreats further into the murk. I try to follow her, but my foot seems glued to the ground. She disappears into the distance. With a cry of exertion, I lift my foot and begin to stumble after her. The mist seems to be getting thicker. I flail blindly, hoping in vain that Hermione is next to me, that she's just playing a game. I catch sight of her. She turns to face me again and gives me the same, sly smile. Encouraged, I pick up the pace, plodding towards her. I can almost reach her, can almost feel the warmth of her hands, the softness of her air, the taste of her lips…

But something is wrong. She looks worried and reaches out a hand to me; my outstretched hand _almost_ brushes hers. Something is pulling me back. I fight desperately to get free, to get a look at whatever it is, but I can't see anything. A sad smile flits across her face, then she turns and disappears once more. I fight harder, writhing, screaming, shouting curses, but nothing will make It release me. It begins to drag me off into the darkness…

"Ginny?"

I'm being gently shaken by a pretty-faced girl. Sluggishly, my brain puts a name to the pretty girl's face; _Luna_. And that must be Neville and Seamus, sitting across from me in the crowded compartment, laughing. Rubbing the tiredness out of my bleary eyes, I sit up.

"You'd better get dressed," Luna says. "We're nearly there."

* * *

The train grinds to a halt.

"At least Hagrid's still here," I say as we step onto the platform. The usual cries of "Firs' years, over here!" still ring out over the platform.

"Yeah," I continue, thinking back to something Neville said earlier, "There's definitely a lot less people this year, I…"

I trail off as, aimlessly looking round the platform, I see Hermione, standing in the crowd, smiling at me. I look back to the same spot almost instantly, but she's gone. And there she is, again, and gone again. I start seeing Hermione all around me. As I turn around frantically, everywhere I see a head with frizzy brown hair turning away, brown eyes gazing at me sadly. I'm only brought back to reality by Neville grabbing my arm.

"What's wrong?" he asks urgently.

Shaken, I tell myself to get a grip.

"Nothing, I just…thought I saw someone. C'mon, we'll miss the carriages."

As I stride purposefully off the platform and towards the horseless carriages, the group falls in behind._ I can't handle this all year_, I think desperately._ I'll just have to get over her._

* * *

As we enter the Great Hall, I say goodbye to Luna, who goes off to sit with the Ravenclaws. The Gryffindor table, so-often packed from end to end, has plenty of empty seats.

"There's so much space!" I say excitedly as we sit down. I make sure to use this newfound luxury to its fullest by putting my feet up on the bench and propping my head up with my hand. Soon, I find myself drifting off to sleep. My head will slowly slide downwards for about thirty seconds, before I jerk back to awareness. This happens several times, so much so that I miss the Sorting. After the last first-year finds a seat, drinks appear on the table. A few glasses of pumpkin juice perk me up a bit. Seamus and Neville are intently discussing the forthcoming Quidditch season.

"The Kestrels will _destroy_ the Tornadoes this season!" Seamus declares to the general vicinity. "They've got half the World Cup winning team!"

Neville scoffs.

"Bunch of has-beens. Now, Puddlemere United, they've got a good young side, and their Beaters are vicious."

"And Wood in goals," I interject.

"What do you think then Ginny?" asks Seamus. "Is this the Chudley Cannons' year?"

He laughs, and with good reason. The Chudley Cannons have won three games in the last year and a half.

"Oh, I gave up on them years ago. I'm a Harpies girl now."

I notice a girl a bit further down the table staring at me; I smile uncertainly. She blushes and turns away. _Okay, weird. _I turn back to Seamus just as he's wracked by a coughing fit that sounds uncannily like '_glory hunter_'. I raise my eyebrows.

"Real subtle, Seamus."

I hear someone calling my name from further down the table. I lean back to see who it is; it's Romilda Vane, waving me over towards her. Did I mention we're friends?

"See you two later," I say to Neville and Seamus, climbing to my feet. "No offense, but we've been sitting in a compartment for about twelve hours, and I'm kind of sick of the sight of you."

"None taken," Seamus replies grumpily. By then, I'm already heading down the table to join Romilda.

"You weren't going to spend all night with those _boys,_ were you, Ginny?" she asks as I take a seat beside her.

"Of course not," I say quickly, laughing. "Not in _that_ way, anyway - we're just friends."

"Uh-huh," she replies disbelievingly. "So you're _not_ trying to work your way through the whole seventh year?"

"No!" I exclaim.

"Just saying," she points out. "You've already dated, like 50% of them. Not counting your brother, because - _ick_."

"I am _not _trying to sleep with the entire seventh year," I reply drolly. "Change the subject, please."

"Ok," she laughs. "So, how was your summer? How's '_The Chosen One'?_

"We broke up, actually."

Her eyes light up.

"OMG, that's terrible! Why?"

"Personal reasons," I grunt. _Yeah, he had to save the world, and I'm in love with his best friend. I'd say that's pretty personal._

"That's such a shame!" she sighs. "I don't suppose you know-"

"I don't know where Harry is," I say quickly.

"_Fine_," she sighs, taking a long sip of pumpkin juice. When she sets her cup down, there's a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You know, I heard you've got an admirer."

"Who?" I ask, baffled.

"Look over your right shoulder."

The strange brunette girl from earlier's eyes quickly drop to her pumpkin juice. I round on Romilda angrily.

"What the - why would you - why would you think I would be interested in a – a _girl!_"

"Hey, issues much?" She rolls her eyes. "Don't Stun the messenger."

"Wha - a message? Did she put you up to this?!"

Romilsa looks a little sheepish.

"She - er - might have made it worth my while. You know, money-wise."

_Great. I've got a secret admirer who I've never even noticed existed before today, and it's a girl!_ It's kind of ironic actually: I've been so worried about rumours getting out about me and Hermione, and this girl has just told the biggest gossip mill in Hogwarts that she fancies me. I sneak another glance over my right shoulder; pretty enough, with big - ahem - eyes. If I ever need my mind taken off Hermione…_No. I would never take advantage of someone like that. I'll just find a quiet moment to let her down gently._ I turn back to Romilda; her eyebrows are raised.

"Interested, are we?"

"_No_, I just want a better look at my mystery stalker. What's her name?"

"Natalie."

_It's a nice name._

"Well, I'll just have to have a word with her. I don't suppose you could keep this to yourself, could you?"

"Ginny. You act like we're not BFF's." _I have no idea what that means._ I guess that was a …yes? I smile.

"Thanks, Romilda. So what's up with you?"

* * *

I collapse into the dormitory; I'm so tired I can barely walk. Romilda laughs.

"You are such a lightweight, Ginny!"

She waves the bottle of Firewhisky we've been surreptitiously sipping from in front of the common room fire for the last few hours.

"S'not the whisky," I mutter. "I can handle the whisky, I've just - just had a long day, is all."

I teeter hazily on the edge of my bed.

"I'd better get to sleep," I mutter. "Dark Arts first thing tomorrow."

Romilda looks crestfallen.

"But you're missing the best part!" she exclaims, drawing a tiny vial of green liquid from her bag.

"Know what this is?" she asks slyly. I raise an eyebrow.

"Not pumpkin juice, I'll bet."

"No," she replies, grinning. "My cousin brought this back from this work exchange thing in Holland. You just take a little sip, and you'll have these ridiculously vivid daydreams, where anything you want - anything you can imagine - can happen." _That _gets my attention. As I change into my pyjamas, I contemplate the possibilities. I could play for the Harpies! Or ride a dragon!_ Or bang Hermione_, suggests the seedier part of my brain.

"On second thought, I'll have a drink," I say quickly.

"Not worried what Mummy will think?" she asks dryly.

"Nope," I say quickly, catching the flask as she tosses it to me. Uncorking it, I take a long sip.

"Leave enough for me," she laughs. I don't reply, instead staggering to my bed.

"Feel anything?" she asks uncertainly.

I draw the curtains.

* * *

It's a sunny evening at the Burrow. No one else is in. Just me and Hermione, sitting in our favourite bench watching the sun go down. We're holding hands. Hermione turns to me.

"I love you, Ginny."

"I love you too Hermione." _A tiny part of my brain mocks me; 'Is this the best dialogue you could come up? And the setting? SO cliché."_

Hermione turns to me. Hesitatingly, fearful of her disappearing again, I lean in for a kiss. My lips meet hers, and it's bliss. I explore her body with my hands, poking and prodding to make sure she's real, not some figment of smoke. She probes my mouth with her tongue, leaning in closer and running her hand through my hair. I eagerly return the kiss, our tongues meeting. I lift her jumper over her head.

"I've missed you so much," I say during a surface for air. She nods, then kisses me again, simultaneously sliding my t-shirt over my head, and pulls me on top of her. She unbuttons my bra, then flings it aside. Throwing any sort of elegance or patience to the wind, she sucks my nipples, working them till they go hard. She worms a hand into my pants, and traces a line around my vagina with her finger. "Stop messing," I moan. I work on getting Hermione's jeans off; they're very tight. She unbuttons my jeans, and I wriggle out of them. And onto Hermione's finger.

"Oh!" I make a little noise of surprise as her finger slides abruptly into my vagina. Hermione brings it out, then using two fingers, begins to slowly slide them in and out again…


	4. Lessons

Monday. First class of the year. Dark Arts. Not three things you want to face when you've got a pounding hangover. As I collapse into my seat next to Romilda, squeezing into an empty seat between her and some Slytherin boy, I groan tiredly.

"Rough night, Ginny?" she asks with a knowing smile.

"I've had worse," I mutter, holding my head in my hands. _Why hasn't someone invented a hangover cure by now? I'll get Fred and George on it_.

I hear the classroom door open, and peek through the crack in my fingers. A lean, tall man, dressed in tatty black robes that swallow his arms, walks down the middle of the classroom. As he passes me, he grabs my hair and pulls me up into a sitting position.

"Ow!" I exclaim; he takes no notice, sweeping to the front of the class. I glare daggers as he addresses us.

"Listen up, sewer-rats," he snaps. I roll my eyes. _Charming_. "I'm Amycus Carrow," he continues. "You'll be learning _proper_ magic from me this year. _Dark _magic."

As he speaks, he lifts up his left sleeve in an accidentally-on-purpose sort of way, revealing the tattooed skull branded there. The Dark Mark.

Rolling my eyes again, I turn to Romilda, ready to make some disparaging comment. She sits, white-faced, clenching the table with bare knuckles. Her eyes are widened in fear. She's not alone. Half the class are scared stiff. Of course they are, I think. There's a living, breathing Death Eater, right in front of them. Sometimes I forget what an unusual childhood I've had. Carrow, still leering viciously at the class, moves to the desk of a timid Hufflepuff girl in what can only be described as a stalk. He whips out his wand; she screams and hides under the desk. Carrow laughs coarsely; he's loving this, tormenting helpless kids.

Straightening, Carrow faces the class again.

"First lesson-"

I raise my hand. For a moment, Carrow blinks, uncertain.

"What?" he eventually growls, stepping away from the Hufflepuff girl's desk towards me. Beside me, I feel Romilda grip my arm in warning.

"What exactly_ are_ the Dark Arts?" I ask inquisitively. "I mean, what makes one spell Dark with a capital D, and another spell rainbows and sunshine?"

Carrow scowls.

"The Dark Arts," he says with gritted teeth, "are far more powerful, more ancient than you, you stupid little girl, can possibly comprehend. Now-"

I trail off as Carrow launches into some long-winded rant about the power of the dark side. Or something. I'm not listening. Instead, my thoughts drift idly back to last night's fantasy-

The Slytherin boy sitting next to me nudges me casually.

"So we're _not_ going to be learning about rainbows and sunshine?" he whispers. "That's a disappointment."

Now it's my turn to be confused.

"Er - do I know you?" I hiss back.

"Nope," he replies nonchalantly. "Just bored."

"Dark Arts not your thing?" I whisper dryly. "I thought all Slytherins were evil."

"Just the ugly ones."

"Don't flatter-"

"SHUT IT!"

Uh-oh. Carrow seems to have noticed our little conversation. Still, it's the first day, maybe he'll be-

BANG.

With a wild gesture of his wand, the Slytherin boy and I are thrown to the floor. My head snaps back against the cold stone; for several moments, I'm dazed. Shakily, I climb to my feet - then Carrow's there, slapping me hard across the face, knocking me to the floor.

"So you're the blood-traitor brat?" he says, staring down at me.

He kicks me in the stomach. With a scream of agony, I double over in pain.

"You-" he leans over me. "You do not want to cross me! Ever! Detention!"

I'm too winded to answer. His message delivered, Carrow turns on the boy, but pauses when he notices he's a Slytherin.

"You - you've got detention too." Furiously, he scribbles out two detention slips, then thrusts them towards us. He turns away. "Now get out, both of you!"

Slowly, I roll and come up to a crawling position. I feel sick. I look at the boy, who's brushing dust off his robes. He offers me a hand; unsteadily, I clamber to my feet and head for the door.

"I think you're in the wrong House," I mutter as we step outside. My legs buckle; I quickly steady myself against a wall.

"No, the Sorting Hat got me right," he sighs. "If I was a Gryffindor, I'd have helped you back there. If I was a Ravenclaw, I'd have kept my mouth shut the whole time. If I was a Hufflepuff…" He smirks. "If I was a Hufflepuff, I'd be off licking a wall somewhere."

I stare at him, not entirely sure if he's serious. Eventually, I shrug.

"Whatever."

Slowly, still wincing in pain, I turn and walk away.

"It's Ross, by the way!" he calls after me.

"Whatever!"

So that's Amycus Carrow, huh? Boy, this year's going to be even less fun than I thought.

* * *

Luna seeks me out at break.

"I heard what happened," she says sympathetically, taking a seat beside me in the courtyard. "That was really mean."

"Yeah. It was."

"I think you should tell Professor McGonagall."

"What's the point?" I reply darkly, shaking my head. "She can't do anything. This is how it is now. We just need to keep our mouths shut and get on with it."

"Still..." she sighs, "That must have really hurt...don't you need any medicine or anything?"

"I'm fine," I mutter.

"Where did he kick you?" Luna asks softly. Reluctantly, I lift up my jumper and shirt, exposing my stomach - and revealing the mottled, bloodied bruising on my pale skin. She leans in for a closer look.

"That could've been really dangerous, Ginny. You're not pregnant, are you?"

I cough up my drink. She presses her hand against my stomach as if feeling for a kick.

"I'm not pregnant!" I say indignantly. She continues to press and poke my stomach.

"Luna, as nice as that feels, poking my _recently kicked _stomach, I'm going to have to ask you to stop."

"Okay…" she says exasperatedly. "I was just checking for a Snortle."

"What's that?"

"You don't want to know," she says with a world-weary air, removing her hand. "Anyway, I know something that will cheer you up."

She hands me a crumpled-up piece of parchment.

"What's this?" I ask disinterestedly.

"Just open it."

"Fine," I sigh, unfolding the crumpled parchment. _Oh. This is interesting._

DUELLING CLUB

7-8 PM

THE GREAT HALL

MON-FRI

This is very interesting.

"Isn't it good?" Luna asks happily. "It'll be like training with the DA again. We should go!"

"Er - I don't know, Luna..." I reply uncertainly. "What if we're expected to do Dark magic? Stuff like the Cruciatus curse? You know that's what they want."

"Well," she says, unperturbed, "We'll just have to win without that stuff."

A happy thought flickers across my mind; Carrow, watching on as I cut a swathe through his favourite students...

"Let's do it," I say. "Only-" I pull out Carrow's detention slip. Tonight at eight, I read with a sinking feeling. Even his handwriting looks angry.

"I have detention tonight at eight. With Carrow," I tell Luna.

"You can leave a few minutes early," Luna points out. "Come on, Ginny, it'll be fun!"

* * *

The Great Hall is packed. Snape, bat-like as ever, stands on a platform in front of the crowd, talking. And_ talking._ And talking some more. Something about safety or something, I'm not really listening. Looking around, I see a number of familiar faces; half the DA is here. Half of Slytherin, too; there's Crabbe, and Goyle, and lurking behind them, looking supremely bored in that insufferably arrogant way of his, is Zabini. members and Slytherin. By the entrance, Amycus Carrow lurks menacingly, prowling back and forth. Every so often he glances impatiently at Snape. I can tell he wants to see some blood.

_Finally_, Snape stops talking, and asks us to pair up. I partner with Luna, of course. But, within moments, Snape's beady eyes pick me out of the crowd. The corners of his mouth twitch upward.

"I think we need an example of the stringent safety measures I have just detailed to you," Snape says icily. "Miss Weasley, would you join me on stage?"

Reluctantly, I trudge towards the stage, pulling Luna with me - although I have a feeling I know what's going to happen.

"Miss Lovegood may remain where she is, touching though her devotion is," Snape says.

The Slytherins laugh. _C'mon Snape,_ I think as I step slowly onto the platform,_ you did this same routine like five years ago. _

"Crabbe? Join Miss Weasley on stage," Snape continues, to another chorus of mocking smiles and laughs from the Slytherins. At the back of the hall, I see Carrow grin. As Crabbe steps onto the platform, I try to look confident and carefree. Sure, he's big, and a year older, but he's also a few brain cells short of an amoeba. I can take him.

Crabbe steps towards me; he stops, mere inches away, staring down his piggy nose at me. He towers over me.

"This is for all those times you and your little Potter pals jinxed me," he hisses. "You won't be able to walk when I've finished with you."

I just smile. Behind us, Snape begins to call out instructions.

"You will face each other, then-"

"We know the drill," I interrupt, turning away from Crabbe. He, too, turns his back to me. Together, we begin to walk towards opposite ends of the platform. I count my paces in my head - _1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8-_

_Now! _

On the eight pace, as I knew he would, Crabbe attacks me with my back turned.

"_Stupefy!_" he yells - but I'm already whirling around, wand raised. His Stunner crashes into my Shield Charm.

"_Expelliarmus!_" I yell, stepping forward. Crabbe ducks out of the way.

"_Impedimenta_!" he shouts - but, off-balance, his curse flies high and wide, over my shoulder.

"_Stupefy_!"

Barely, he blocks my Stunner. Crabbe scrambles backwards as I advance, blocking everything he sends my way - and returning them with interest. A Stunner unbalances him - a Stinging Jinx causes him to howl in pain - his Shield Charm flickers and fails-

"_Expelliarmus!"_

My spell knocks him off his feet. As he topples backwards towards the stone floor, I catch him with a Body-Bind Hex. Then - just for luck - I send a Bat Bogey Hex his way. Crabbe hits the ground with a dull thud; the DA cheer.

"Impressive," Snape drawls coldly. He swoops over towards Crabbe to relieve him from the gigantic winged bogeys besieging the teenager. "But," he calls over his shoulder, "I'm afraid that's the last we'll be seeing of you tonight, Miss Weasley. Professor Carrow tells me you have detention now."

"But - that's not till eight!" I sputter, fuming. I glance over to Carrow, standing in the shadows at the back of the hall - he's laughing. I just got here! _And_, in my very first duel, I kicked ass!

"Are you questioning Professor Carrow's truthfulness?" Snape asks, his black eyes glittering dangerously.

"I - no-"

"See that you don't," he hisses. "Now go."

I glance at Luna; she flashes me an apologetic smile.

"Fine," I snap, stepping off the platform. "Fine."

I stride towards Amycus Carrow, and detention with a Death Eater.

"I hope you have something more imaginative in mind than beating me up," I call as I approach him. "Cause, you know, that's not teaching me anything."

He leans in close to me; so close I can feel his hot, stinking breath on my face. He reaches out a hand to cup my cheek. I flinch away; with painfully strong fingers, he grips my jaw.

"I could do whatever I wanted to you, you know," he murmurs. For a moment, his eyes rake down my body; then, narrowed dangerously, they return to mine. "No one would care."

"You'd be surprised," I whisper back. "I still have some friends, and we're quite..._effective__."_

"Are you?" he replies, grinning. "We'll see how that goes. Until then..."

Carrow releases his grip on my jaw.

"We're going to my office," he tells me. "Lead the way."

* * *

Three hours later, I leave Carrow's office. I've never told anyone what happened that night.

I never will.

When I get back to the common room, it's deserted. I take a seat by the fire. I have some Firewhisky.

Gradually, I calm down.

Some time later - I don't know how long - I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Curiously, I turn my head; a vaguely familiar brown-haired girl appears at the bottom of the staircase. When she sees me, her eyes widen.

"I just - can I get my cardigan?" she mumbles, the words a nervous rush. She nods towards her cardigan, draped over a nearby armchair.

She's wearing pyjamas.

"Sure," I reply, turning back to the fire. Quickly, she collects her cardigan, stealing nervous glances at me all the time.

Suddenly, I remember who she is; my secret admirer. Natalie.

"Sit down," I say suddenly, offering her the bottle of Firewhisky. "Have a drink."

* * *

"_Natalie__!_" I moan.

She looks eagerly up at me; she smiles. I'm in an armchair, she's between my legs.

"You did great," I say, smiling; I pull her up into my lap. All I'm wearing is a shirt, unbuttoned, my breasts spilling out. Natalie's still in her pyjamas.

I spread my legs and she sits between them, her warm body pressing against mine. I wrap my arms round her and tilt her head round for a kiss. She strokes my face, disbelieving, as I explore her mouth with my tongue; she cautiously reciprocates.

"It's ok, you can do whatever you want," I breathe into her ear. "You've got me now."

I reach a hand up her pyjama shirt. She's not wearing a bra; she has bigger tits than Hermione. Natalie giggles as I play with them, teasing her nipples with the slightest brush of my fingertips. My other hand reaches into her pants. I inch towards her vagina. She's positively glowing with excitement.

I finger her.

Afterwards, I pull her shirt off and she collapses in my arms. I close my eyes. _She could be Hermione_.


	5. Dumbledore's Army

"It has been brought to my attention that a number of students have become involved in illicit activities outside of school hours." Snape pauses, his black, beady eyes raking up and down the Gryffindor table. Our eyes betray nothing. "As a result of this," Snape continues in that slow drawl of his, "Students will be restricted to dormitories after 9 pm."-"

A groan rumbles around the Great Hall. I glance at Neville, but he quickly waves me away. _Not now_, he mouths.

"Furthermore…" Snape pauses as if waiting for silence. I don't know why; you could hear a pin drop. With a quick, undecipherable glance towards Amycus Carrow, sitting by his side, Snape continues.

"Furthermore, to ensure that the new curfew is upheld, as of tonight the corridors will be patrolled at night by teachers, staff and-" again, he glances towards Carrow- "A few... _trustworthy_ students. To the troublemakers, the vandals, I will say this now; there will be no _revolution_, no glorious victory. You will only get yourselves, and others, hurt. I urge you to cease these activities, or-" his eyes meet mine, and, for some reason, they're almost _sympathetic_ - "Or the consequences of any continued _rebellion_ will be swift and serious," he finishes, resuming his seat at the teacher's table.

Immediately, I turn to Neville. So does Seamus.

"So?" I ask.

"We're going to keep doing it, of course," he replies coolly. As he speaks, the dinner plates arrive.

"So, Neville…same time tonight?" I ask, chewing on a chicken wing.

"No. Later."

I raise my eyebrows, surprised.

"I've got something big planned for tonight," he explains. "I don't want them to find it until breakfast."

"_Breakfast_?" I groan lazily. "We'll have to stay up all night!"

"What have you got planned, Neville?" Seamus asks, grinning excitedly, before Neville can reply to me. "Are we blowing something up?"

"It's a surprise," Neville says, tapping the side of his nose slyly.

"C'mon…" I prod. "What are we blowing up?"

"We're not blowing up anything!" he exclaims. "Just wait and see."

He changes the subject before I can press the matter.

"I wonder who's a 'few trustworthy students?" Neville asks thoughtfully. "If Carrow's picking them..."

He holds two fingers up.

"Crabbe and Goyle…" we all say in unison. After that, however, we're stumped, and I find my attention drifting. Drifting down the table, in fact, as Natalie catches my eye. She gives me a happy little half-wave; I don't dare return it, but I settle for a warm smile - and an unspoken promise in my eyes. Blushing slightly, she turns back to her own friends. Smiling happily after our little exchange, I turn back to Neville and Seamus.

"What are you so happy about?" Seamus demands.

"Oh, nothing," I reply dreamily, still lost in my own thoughts.

_Am I gay now?_

I used to rationalise it by saying it was only Hermione I was interested in; it was her personality I loved, not her body, or her lovely legs, or her pert - well, that's beside the point. I didn't want girls, I wanted Hermione. But now…

I find Hermione hot. I find Natalie hot. I find my poster of the Holyhead Harpies on their international tour, playing in bikinis against the Cancun Chimaeras, _very_ did this happen? I used to be - well, _normal_. I liked boys. I thought girls were gross, I thought Harry was the one for me. Did Harry dumping me really change the whole way my entire mind worked? _I think this is what the Muggles call Fizzicology. Or Sychometry. Something like that._

* * *

The last plate disappears, Snape waves lazily to dismiss us, and we begin to file out of the hall. As we head up the staircase into the Entrance Hall, someone calls my name.

"Miss Weasley?"

I turn round - Professor McGonagall stands at the bottom of the staircase, staring up at me.

"Could you come with me please?" she calls.

"Sure, Professor," I reply, fighting through the crowds surging up the staircase to reach her. "What's the problem?" I ask - although I have a sinking feeling that I already know what she's going to say.

McGonagall doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she places a hand on my back and guides me out of the crowd. I fall into step beside her. When she doesn't reply after a few seconds, I turn to her.

"Professor-"

"I am taking you to see Professor Snape," she sighs. "He believes you may be able to provide enlightenment on a burning issue for him."

"Did I do something wrong, Professor?" I say in a pleading, faux-innocent tone. She smiles ruefully.

"Do you really expect me to buy that? From the sister of Fred and George?"

I grin apologetically.

"Will the Carrows be there?" I ask.

"No. This meeting is between you, me and Professor Snape only," McGonagall replies. Her smile, small as it was, fades away.

"That's... good," I reply in a small voice. Her eyes crinkle in concern, but she says nothing. For a few moments, there's silence. An awkward, awkward silence.

"Have you successfully Vanished your mouse yet?" she eventually asks.

"Wha -er - yes. I have. Professor."

Small talk with Professor McGonagall. _Not fun._

"Good," she replies, nodding. "Next lesson you can progress to kittens."

"_What_?" I blurt out. When she looks at me, surprised, I attempt to explain my outburst.

"Vanishing mice and toads is one thing, but kittens - kittens are _cute_! And smart, and - you want me to murder a cute little kitten!"

She shakes her head.

"The animals we use in class are magical creations. They will fade away in a few hours, regardless of what happens."

"It's still wrong," I mutter - but I'm prevented from taking the matter any further by our arrival at the Headmaster's office.

"Rackharrow," McGonagall states icily; the grand, golden staircase begins to revolve slowly upwards. We step onto it.

When we reach the top, Snape is waiting for us.

"Take a seat," he calls, ushering McGonagall and I forward into the room.

"Headmaster," says McGonagall with a slight, icy nod. She leads me across the office towards Snape's desk, her hand placed firmly on the small of my back. As I sit down in a hard-backed wooden chair, my attention snaps onto the portrait behind Snape. _Dumbledore_. I swear he winks at me; but, when Snape follows my gaze and turns round, my old Headmaster is suddenly immersed in a book. Snape turns back to me, looking slightly confused.

"Miss Weasley," he drawls, paying no attention to McGonagall, sitting beside me. "Tell me who is behind the recent spate of anti-social behaviour."

"I've no idea, Professor," I reply innocently.

Snape scowls. For an uncomfortably long time, his black, glittering eyes linger on my own.

"You are familiar with Legilimency, Miss Weasley?" he asks coldly.

"I've heard of it," I reply non-committally.

"Well, then, you'll know how it works," he says, leaning forward. "I look into your mind; I see everything. Your thoughts, your hopes, your darkest, deepest desires..."

He pauses, his eyes fixated on my own. Desperately, I try to empty my mind, though two faces keep floating to the surface; Natalie and Hermione.

"Severus-" McGonagall begins.

"I know you're involved, Weasley," he interrupts sharply, cutting right over McGonagall. "Confess now, and I promise you will not be punished. Nor will your friends. I just want to bring an end to it."

"Sure," I retort sarcastically. "And the second I confess, you'll hand me straight over to Carrow. You know what he's been doing to me?"

Snape's head jerks slightly, as if swatting away an irritating fly.

"You are aware," he says, "That if you are - how do I put this - _caught in the act_, you will be expelled with immediate effect?"

"Perhaps home is the best place for her, Severus_,_" says Professor McGonagall. "Particularly with these animals you have teaching here."

Slowly, calmly, Snape turns his head to gaze at her.

"This is not the time to question my appointments, Minerva. We are discussing Miss Weasley's blatantly illegal-"

"You have no proof that-"

"I will find proof!" he snaps. "And when I do, Weasley's merry band will find their quality of education greatly diminished."

McGonagall stands up, voice raised.

"And that's just how you want it, isn't it, Severus? You want Weasley gone from the school - you want to save yourself some trouble. It doesn't matter to you that as soon as she's gone, your master will murder her in her sleep-"

"Get out, Weasley," Snape hisses icily.

"Professor-"

"NOW!" he yells.

As I leave, Snape and McGonagall are still arguing.

* * *

I skip Duelling tonight. It's been a long day, and it's going to go on for a while yet, according to Neville. Besides, I'm kind of getting tired of being cursed all the time. I mean, I still win, but attrition takes its toll eventually.

No, tonight I have other plans.

Silently, I slip through the Room of Requirement's heavy wooden doors. I've never seen the Room like this before; small, intimate, lit only by candles, scattered haphazardly around the room. In the centre is a large, four-poster bed. Natalie's already in it. Her eyes are closed - I think she's asleep.

Let's surprise her.

Without a sound, I remove my shoes and, my feet padding lightly against the soft carpet, I cross the room. I reach for the sheets, ready to slip under them and snuggle up to Natalie's warmth-

"You're late," she suddenly murmurs.

"I had to be careful," I whisper, hurriedly slipping my robes off. Sliding into bed, I wrap my arms around Natalie and kiss her neck. "There's patrols at night now."

Smiling softly, Natalie turns to face me.

"But you still came," she points out.

"I still came," I agree. "And you'll still come."

She giggles, then, in one smooth movement, clambers on top of me, the heat of her body instantly warming the cool, bare skin of my stomach.

"Not now," I say apologetically.

Natalie freezes, surprised, in the act of taking my bra off.

"Not now?" she repeats blankly. "Why not?"

"I- I don't know," I sigh, staring up at her pretty face. "I'm just - just tired, that's all. Let's just lie here."

"Sure," she replies happily, climbing back under the covers. "But - soon?"

"Soon," I agree. We settle into each other's arms.

* * *

I glance at the clock. Half two. _I'd better go_, I'd sigh. Extricating myself from sleeping Natalie's embrace, I slide out of bed and hurriedly dress. I'd better get back to the common room before Neville and Seamus get there, or they might start wondering why I'm only getting back at half two in the morning. They might start asking questions I don't want to answer. So I hurry.

When I get to the Fat Lady's portrait - after a few narrow escapes from Filch and Carrow's patrols - she, thankfully, is still awake. I give the password, ignoring her bad-tempered lectures about 'moonlight escapades', and hurry through the portrait hole. _Phew_, I sigh. There's no one here - even the fire has dwindled down to muted-orange embers.

Abruptly, footsteps ring out from the boy's staircase, and the unmistakeable voices of Neville and Seamus. Too late, I consider my appearance - do I look like someone who's just had sex? Is my hair a mess? But, before I can react, Neville and Seamus step into the common room. I can do nothing except sink into the nearest armchair and try to look casual. Like I've just been disturbed from a good night's sleep.

"Morning," I call coolly.

"You made it?" Neville says, surprised. "Guess I owe you ten Sickles, Seamus."

Seamus smirks.

"Knew she wouldn't miss this - right, Ginny?"

"No way," I reply, climbing to my feet as they sidle over to me. "So - er - what _are _we doing? More graffiti?"

"Sort of," Neville admits. "But this is _big_."

"So spill," I prompt. "What's the deal-"

"The Great Hall," he interrupts.

"No chance," Seamus immediately scoffs. "Terry Boot said it was constantly patrolled. He and Ernie tried to get in there last night, nothing doing."

"We'll find a way," Neville says dismissively. "C'mon, we'd better go."

Our doubts by no means assuaged, we climb out the portrait hole. Slowly, gradually - ducking behind suits of armour, corners, anything, anytime we see any patrols - we work our way downwards, from staircase to staircase, down the seven floors of Hogwarts towards the Great Hall.

Finally, we're within sight, and we haven't been rumbled yet. But Terry Boot was right - standing outside the entrance to the Great Hall are two masked, cloaked figures. Peering out cautiously from behind a statue of Wilfred the Wistful, Neville stares thoughtfully at the two guards. Eventually, he turns to Seamus.

"This is your part, Seamus," Neville says. "Distractions are your speciality."

"Yeah, but-"

"Go that way," Neville interrupts, pointing back the way we came. "Keep heading that way for about two minutes, then..." Neville grins. "Well, I'm sure you'll think of something."

Seamus returns the smile.

"Sure thing, Neville. I'll see you two back at the common room, right?"

"Yeah," Neville and I reply. Seamus turns away.

"Seamus?" Neville hisses as Seamus begins to skulk away from us. He glances over his shoulder towards us. "Think _big_," Neville adds.

Smiling, Seamus hurries away down the corridor. In my head, I begin to count down the seconds. _One-hundred-and-twenty, one-hundred-and-nineteen, one-hundred-and-eighteen..._

BOOM.

The castle walls seem to shake as a colossal blast rings out, somewhere in the distance. Neville and I exchange a quick smile as the two guards sprint off towards the source of the disturbance. Hopefully, Seamus will be long gone by the time they get there - but we can't worry about that now. We have places to be.

"C'mon," Neville hisses hurriedly. "We've got maybe ten minutes, tops."

Our heads bowed down, we sprint towards the Great Hall's grand wooden doors. As we slip inside, Neville's already dishing out orders. His voice rings out, uncomfortably loud in the vast, empty hall.

"You keep guard," he instructs. "I-" he nods towards the back of the hall, behind the teacher's table- "I'll be up there."

He pulls a paintbrush from within the folds of his cloak. Despite the lack of paint, as soon as Neville withdraws it from his pocket, the brush begins to drip green paint onto the floor. _A Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product, I'll bet._

I turn my back on him, ear pressed to the door, straining to hear the sound of any approaching footsteps. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch out of the corner of my eye as Neville works his way from wall to wall. Though his brush glides quickly over the brown-stone walls, nothing appears. No letters, no rude drawings, nothing.

"Neville?" I call uncertainly. "Please don't tell me we broke into the Great Hall in the middle of the night to graffiti in _invisible ink_!"

"Relax," he calls back, smiling slightly. "It'll appear after a few hours. Right at-" he checks his watch- "Right at breakfast, actually."

"Clever," I murmur quietly, turning back to the door. Still silence outside. But this won't last forever, and time's ticking on. "Hurry it up, Neville," I add.

"Almost done," he mutters, straining with his brush to complete the last few letters. Opening the door a fraction of an inch, I peek out. I can't see anyone-

But, in the distance, I can hear hurried footsteps.

"We have to go _now_!" I hiss urgently.

"Almost done!"

"Neville, they're coming-"

"Okay, finished!" he exclaims, slipping the brush back into his robes and sprinting down the hall towards me. I turn to the door - I'm about to pull it open-

Neville grabs my hand, mere millimeters away from the doorknob.

"What did-"

He claps a hand over my mouth. Silently, he motions at the floor. To my horror, I see shadows, dancing in the light of a lantern. Silently, I sink to the floor and peek underneath the door. My heart plummets. There are _three _figures out there, all wearing long, black robes that trail to the floor. What odds one of them is Carrow?

"Well?" Neville whispers, pulling me away from the door, further back into the darkness - and relative safety - of the hall.

"Three people," I murmur back. "I reckon Carrow's one of them."

Neville looks thoughtful. I'm less calm, silently mouthing obscenities to the air.

"Disillusionment Charms?" he suggests.

"I don't know the incantation."

"Neither do I - hold on-" He raps me, hard, on the top of my head with his wand.

"_Oww_!" I involuntarily exclaim. "_What _was that for?"

"Yeah, you need the incantation," he mutters. "Do you think-"

"Too late!" I interrupt, as the shadows suddenly loom larger. "Hide!"

Not a moment too soon, Neville and I retreat to a shadowy corner of the hall. We duck behind one of the long, wooden tables, piled up at the side of the hall. The door opens with a crash - Amycus Carrow sweeps into the wall, his wand held before him like a battering ram. He glances left and right, but it's so dark in here - I can barely see my hand in front of my face-

"_Lumos_!" Carrow mutters. Involuntarily, I flinch, a panicked shriek quickly stifled to a squeak of fright. But, thankfully, Carrow's attention isn't fixated on the corners of the room. If he checks the corners, we're done for. But, he's focused on the back of the hall, where the four House banners hang from the ceiling. Carrow steps further into the hall, closely followed by his two shadows. Their wands, too, cast light - all it takes is a glance to the side and we're helpless. Deer in the headlights.

I feel Neville nudge my side. I glance towards him - with a meaningful, downwards glance, he catches my eye. Following his gaze, I see something clutched in his hand. Peruv- _oh_._ That's clever. _I nod, and Neville throws the Instant Darkness powder into the air. The Great Hall is suddenly filled with black, blinding smoke. Neville and I sprint for it.

"Hey-"

"They're getting away!"

Footsteps thunder after us, but we, with the advantage of surprise, are fastest. Forcing the doors open, we squeeze through and sprint for the staircase. As I slam the Hall's doors shut, I feel a curse thud into the wood. But we're already gone.

* * *

We enter the common room. Seamus, pacing anxiously from side to side, is waiting for us.

"Well?" he asks hurriedly.

"We did it," Neville replies triumphantly. "Dumbledore's Army, still recruiting."


	6. Quidditch Trials

I wake to an empty dormitory, sunlight streaming in through the open curtains. I sit up and stretch my arms. _Saturday. Today's going to be a good day_, I decide. My watch tells me it's half past midday. The show will be over by now, I suppose; breakfast has been and gone. _Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting_, blazed across the back wall for all to see. I only wish I could have seen Carrow's face. Still, the thought is enough. Smiling, I spring out of bed.

I wince as a jolt of pain rushes through my left leg. I guess I'm still a little stiff from last night. Too much running. Limping slightly, I have a quick shower, then slip on a pair of jeans and a comfy, old sweater. I'm about to head downstairs - see if there's still any action going on in the Hall - when I hear a tapping on the dorm window. Quickly, I glance to my left; hovering outside is a fuzzy, frantic blob of feathers, butting its beak over and over against the glass.

"_Pig?" _I exclaim, hurrying to the window. I open it, and he zooms in, twittering angrily. "Wh- why aren't you in the Owlery?"

With a derisive hoot, he flutters back to the windowsill, fixing me with an angry, beady-eyed glare.

"What? What do you want?" I ask, baffled.

He just stares at me, his head tilted thoughtfully to the left. Is it my imagination, or is there a judging look in his eye?

"Don't look at me like that," I sigh, leaning beside him on the windowsill. "I haven't even used you to send any – _oh_."

He twitters reproachfully as I realise - _I've forgotten to write to my parents._

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," I apologise hurriedly as he pecks at my fingers. "I'm _sorry_!"

Abandoning his assault on my fingers, Pig flutters over to the table and taps impatiently on a spare piece of parchment.

"Alright, I'm doing it!"

I rake through my bag for a quill and ink. After a few moments of hurried searching, ever-wary of the crazed owl in the room, I find a half-used pot and an old, scraggly quill. With one eye on Pig, making sure he keeps his beak away from me, I sit down at the table.

It's only then I realise - I have absolutely _no_ idea what I'm going to write_._

Hi Mum and Dad. I sneak out at night to break stuff. The new teacher viciously assaulted me on my first day. Every day for an hour in Duelling, practically the whole school lines up to take a shot at me. Last night, I spray-painted the Great Hall... oh, and I'm banging a 5th year girl! Somehow, I don't think that letter would go down too well. Sighing, I put quill to paper. I have to tell them something.

_Dear Mum & Dad_, I start. Okay, easy bit over. _Sorry I haven't written_, I continue,_ I've just been so busy with schoolwork_ - Pigwidgeon hoots derisively.

"It's true!" I say heatedly. Flushing, I return my attention to the parchment.

_NEWTs are harder than anything we've done so far, but I'm keeping up OK. The new teachers aren't so bad - I keep out of their way mostly. We never see Snape, he's always up in his office. Probably brooding or something. Anyways, I'm well, don't worry about me turning to the Dark Arts or anything. Write to me anything else you want to know._

_Love, Ginny._

It's OK, I think. Nice and vague, anyway - I don't want them to worry too much. Things aren't too bad here; nothing I can't handle, anyway. As I tie the letter to Pig's leg with a spare length of string, he flashes me a scornful look.

"You try writing a letter," I snap. "You don't even have thumbs."

With a hoot, he takes off, forcing me to duck out of the way. He does a victory lap of the dormitory before soaring out the window. Grinning despite myself, I shut the window after him. _  
_

Still smiling slightly, I make my way downstairs to the Great Hall. It might be my imagination, but I'd swear there's a certain...murmur in the air today. A buzz - an excitement. As I reach the grand wooden doors of the Hall, I can't resist a quick peek. I lean round the corner, staring up towards the back wall - and my grin spreads ever-wider. There's a hastily-applied new coat of paint on the back wall, but our message still glows brightly - shining through the paint.

Better than that, Amycus Carrow is here; pacing angrily back and forth, waving his wand ineffectually. As I watch, he brandishes his wand with a bit _too _much fury, and a stream of red-hot sparks shoot out of the end of his wand. Carrow hops angrily as the sparks burn through his shoe.

"Ginny?"

I jump three feet in the air as someone taps me on the shoulder. Heart racing, I spin round.

"What the - _Demelza_?"

"C'mon," the Gryffindor Chaser says amicably, pushing me inside the Great Hall. "Everyone's waiting!"

Now I'm inside, I see the Hall is pretty much empty - but for a cluster of students, sitting at the near side of the Gryffindor table. For some reason, they all have brooms.

"Demelza, what's going on?" I ask, puzzled, as we approach the gaggle of students. Now we're nearer, I recognise a few faces; Seamus, Neville - _Natalie_? What's she doing here?

A moment later, Demelza gives me my answer.

"So, are you all ready for the trials?" she asks the group, nudging me forward. "Here's the captain."

"Cap - _what_?" I whisper urgently. She ignores me.

"Be at the pitch in half an hour," Demelza tells the still-waiting crowd. "Now off you go! The captain needs some peace."

As the crowd filters away, chatting excitedly, I grab Demelza's arm.

"Since _when_ was I captain?" I exclaim heatedly.

"Since Harry and Ron never turned up for school," she replies coolly, guiding me to a seat on the benches. "Along with Katie and Dean leaving, we're short half a team, and you're the most experienced."

"But - I-" I sputter, rubbing my face in disbelief.

"We need you, Ginny," she says. "You're our best player."

"Well - I- I suppose..." Nothing like a bit of harmless flattery to calm you down. "We've lost so many players, though! And, to be honest-" I look around quickly, making sure none of the trialists are still lurking- "Nobody we get will be up to Harry's standard. Or Katie's. This could be-"

"The stuff of legend?" Demelza suggests optimistically.

"The worst team ever," I reply gloomily. "So - who do we actually have? You, me..."

"Coote and Peakes are still here," she points out. "That just leaves a Keeper, a Chaser and a Seeker."

"So - Keeper?" I prompt.

Demelza holds up a finger.

"McLaggen's left-"

"Whiner and Charms Girl?" I ask.

"In the pack."

"They're both pretty good," I say thoughtfully, climbing to my feet. "Listen, Demelza, I need to go and get my broom. I'll see you down at the pitch, OK?"

"Sure," she replies. "See you later."

* * *

_What a piece of junk_, I think, disgusted. _I can't fly on this._

With a heavy heart, I pull my broom out of my trunk - or what's left of it. Sighing, I hold it up to eye level, half-hoping the crooked, splintered handle, the bent twigs, the peeling paint, is only a trick of the light. But, of course, it's not. In a feeble, futile effort to save my battered old broomstick, I try to brush the twigs back into position. Instead, at my touch the twigs just fall away from the handle, thumping dully to the ground.

In a fit of petulance, I toss my broom across the room. Another crappy Weasley hand-me-down - this was Charlie's old broom. How many games of Quidditch has it seen, I wonder bitterly - not just Hogwarts matches, either as Charlie captained the Gryffindor team or I flew in it, but so many more; so many of those happy summer days, up at the orchard at the Burrow, playing on our improvised pitch. And now it's just more junk. I suppose I'll have to write to my parents about getting a new broom. Or Fred and George. In the meantime...I'll just have to use one of the school brooms. They're old, beaten-up and, frankly, filthy, but I suppose they'll do for now.

Once I get down to the Quidditch pitch, I immediately set about raking through the school's broom collection, stuffed away in a trunk in Madam Hooch's office. I'm not expecting much. A fairly recent Cleansweep, perhaps? I'd even settle for an old Shooting Star. I'm playing Chaser; the broom doesn't really matter _that_ much; it's more about how fast you can think, and how well you work with the other Chasers. Now, if I was a Seeker, on the other hand...

My fingers reach the bottom of the trunk. I sigh. _No Firebolt, then._ Foolishly, I'd even dared to hope for a Nimbus 2001 left by one of the Slytherin players from a few years back. But, no such luck. Instead, I settle for one of the less beaten-up brooms - a decades-old Comet. Holding it up to the light, I run a hand up the thick-oak handle, checking for anything that will indicate a lean or a loss of speed. It seems fine, but I'd better check.

I'm still examining the broom when Demelza pops her head in the door.

"You coming out?" she ask cheerfully.

"Yeah, let's go," I sigh, tucking the Comet under my arm. "Help me with the balls, will you?"

"Sure."

We each grab a handle of the heavy, wooden chest that contains the Quaffle, the Bludgers and a practice Snitch.

"One, two, three, lift!"

The chest doesn't budge, our faces flushing as we strain to get it off the ground. Eventually, we're forced to admit defeat; I flop to the ground.

"That's - _heavy_," I say between heavy breaths. "Go and - get Peakes and Coote, please," I ask Demelza.

Nodding, she hurries off. As she leaves, I stand up, giving the chest one last, futile tug.

"Or you could just, y'know, use magic?" suggests a sly voice.

I glance towards the doorway; the Slytherin boy, Ross, from my unpleasant encounter with Carrow, stands there. Scowling, I abandon my attempts to lift the chest.

"Why are _you _here?" I snap.

"Boredom," he says, shrugging easily. "This might surprise you, but the Slytherin common room is _not_ a fun place to be."

"I'm shocked," I retort dryly, raising my wand into the air - and, with a swish and flick, the chest rises too. As I do, Peakes and Coote appear at the doorway, peering in past Ross.

"It's alright - I've got it," I say hurriedly, stepping towards the doorway, chest held aloft in the air before me. I gesture for Ross to move out of the way, and he slides to the side, sighing. Setting aside the chest, I step outside into the sunlight. In the centre of the Quidditch pitch stand twenty-or-so trialists, brooms clutched in their hands. Some over-enthusiastic trialists are even flying about; I duck reflexively as a third-year zooms just over my head. Behind me, I hear Ross laugh.

"Hold these, will you?" I say, thrusting a quill and parchment into his hands. "Be a good boy and take these up to the stands."

Ignoring his protests, I turn away and stride towards the waiting crowd. As I approach, they fall silent, staring expectantly as I stand, fidgeting awkwardly, before them.

"Uh - hi," I begin uncertainly. "I'm Ginny Weasley - for those of you who don't know me. And - apparently - I'm Gryffindor Captain, so I suppose I'll be picking the team. Anyway…why don't you fly a couple of times round the pitch so I can see if any of you are good enough?"

_Oops. That came out way harsher than I meant it to be. _

Most of the crowd takes off at once, racing each other to be the first in the air. Only Neville is left standing.

"You think you're automatically in, Neville?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah, I'm just here for moral support," says Neville. "My first time flying didn't go so well - it's kind of put me off it permanently."

"Yeah - I heard about that," I reply, suppressing a giggle. "Listen, I'm going up to the stand - get a better viewpoint, you know."

"I'll walk you up," he says.

I laugh.

"Later," I reply, straddling my broom and taking off. In seconds, Neville fades to a speck on the ground; I weave my way through the riders as I make my way to the stands. I land in front of Ross with a beautifully-executed inverted spin that a professional would be happy to pull off. As I step off my broom, I flash him a smug smirk.

"I've seen better," is all he says.

"Just give me my stuff," I retort, bemused, taking a seat next to him. For a few minutes, I study the flyers. This would be a lot easier if I knew their names. Nobody's fallen off yet, which I suppose is always a good sign. There's at least ten who are shakily crawling round the pitch at just above head height; I don't think they'll make the cut. Natalie's one of them, I notice. I don't know why she's even here - has she ever even _mentioned _Quidditch before? I don't think so. Maybe she's just trying to impress me.

There are a few more-confident flyers among the bunch; Seamus is one of them, I see. I remember him trying out last year, but he didn't make it. On the other hand, this year we don't have Katie Bell.

I turn to Ross. I'm not going to learn anything more from this; time to find out a bit more about the trialists.

"Do you have a whistle?" I ask hopefully.

He rolls his eyes.

"Are you a witch or not?" he replies, pulling out his wand and levelling it casually at my throat. "_Sonorus._"

"What the-" I flinch as my voice suddenly echoes around the pitch. "Tha - thanks," I mutter hesitantly, as all over the field, flyers zoom to a halt.

"Uhh - thanks everyone," I continue, my voice booming out over the stadium. "If you could just take a seat over here..."

Tentatively, I point my wand at my throat. _Finite Incantatem_, I think.

"Testing," I mutter - my voice has returned to normal. Looking up, I see the trialists are all landing in front of me - some with more grace than others. One third-year boy nearly shatters my shins. At the same time, Neville arrives from the stairs. I see him give Ross a funny glance, but he says nothing, instead taking a seat some distance away.

"That was uh - illuminating," I say, as the third-year boy scrabbles to his feet. "I think-"

"Who's this?" Seamus asks curiously, pointing at Ross.

"My secretary," I answer promptly. "Now, listen..."

I go through the whole group, separating the hopeless from the maybe's.

"Trevor, Scott, Rose, Michael, Fred, Emma, the other Emma, David, and Alex, sorry, but you - you aren't really _ready_ for the team. Maybe next year?"

They don't take it well, but eventually - after a great deal of sulking, cursing and name-calling - they leave, leaving me with only a few. I motion for Ross to pass me my scribbled notes.

"What's the magic word?" he asks infuriatingly.

I snatch it off him.

"So…who's a Keeper here?" I ask.

Vicky Frobisher and Geoffrey Hooper, sitting at the back of the group, raise their hands.

"Can you commit to the team this year, Vicky?" I ask thoughtfully. She nods.

"Yeah, definitely. They've cancelled most of my clubs."

"Okay," I reply, mind whirring busily. "Demelza, you take a Quaffle and take penalties into these two. How many Chasers have we got?"

Three of the group lift their hands - including Seamus.

"There's only one spot available," I warn. For a moment, all three exchange nervous, calculating glances. "Take a Quaffle and pass it around for a bit," I tell them. As they fly off, I look at the last trialist; a painfully-small third-year girl.

"Please tell me you're a Seeker," I say.

"I am," she replies, smiling. "My brother plays for the Appleby Arrows. He lets me practice with him sometimes."

"Great! Welcome to the team - er-"

"Elizabeth," she finishes.

"Elizabeth," I repeat, returning the smile. "Well, see you later."

Happily, she flies off; as soon as she's gone, I sag into a seat beside Neville.

"I'm not sure I'm cut out for this Captaining business," I say, turning to him.

"You did great," he reassures me, before glancing over my shoulder towards Ross, sitting alone a few feet away. "So...who's this guy?"

"Talking about me?" Ross calls loudly.

"I'm just wondering why some _Slytherin _boy is watching the Gryffindor tryouts," Neville snaps. "What's your angle?"

Ross jumps to his feet; Neville stands up so quickly that he almost beats the Slytherin to it.

"Whoa, easy!" I urge, standing up and placing myself between them. Neville stares at me for a couple of seconds, his eyes constantly flitting between mine and, standing behind me, smirking, Ross's.

"See you later, Ginny," Neville mutters, sloping away towards the stairs. As soon as he's gone, I whirl on Ross.

"What did you do _that _for?" I exclaim, incensed.

"What did _I _do?"

"It's just your general…demeanour," I sigh. "Could you not be so...Slytherin?"

"Tell him to not be so Gryffindor!" he exclaims. "Could you be any more 'brawn, not brains'?"

"Do I look like brawn to you?"

Turning away from him, I return my attention to the pitch. I've not been watching at all. I suppose Demelza can report on the Keepers; I'd better focus on the Chasers. After a few moments, I can tell that Seamus is the best of a bad bunch. When I call them back in, I tell Seamus the good news, and, after Demelza reports that Vicky is the better Keeper, the rest of the trialists skulk off. I give the team some nonsense about this being 'our year' then they, too, leave. It's just me, Demelza and Ross now.

"Who's this?" Demelza asks inquisitively.

"Slytherin spy, Ross replies, holding out his green and white tie. She looks confused.

"Er - whatever. Ginny, you said you wanted to get some practice?"

"Yeah, in a minute," I reply uncertainly. She flies off. I mount my broom, then turn back to Ross.

"Er-"

"You too," he says, before strolling off towards the stairs. I shrug and take off towards Demelza.


	7. Release - Part 1

**Release - Part One**

An electric-green curse crackles over my head. It explodes against a suit of armour as I dive to the floor; the creaking, centuries-old metal topples towards me, a flaming hole in its chest. Without thinking, I dive aside – but I crash into Natalie's legs, as she flees by my side, and we _thump_ into the wall together, a winded, bleeding tangle of arms and legs.

"_QUEERS_!" Amycus Carrow yells, his voice contorted in an inhumane screech. He thunders up the corridor towards us, another curse already on his lips. Instantly – somehow ignoring the racking pains in my stomach – I leap to my feet. Twenty paces away, Carrow stops, his head tilted to the side – almost in curiosity, though his brutish, enraged features quickly dispel that idea.

He raises his wand. Before he can send another curse our way, I act first. With a flick of my own wand, I send the still-smouldering suit of armour hurtling through the air towards Carrow. Lightning fast, he slashes his wand through the air; with an ear-shattering blast, the armour explodes into a thousand pieces. Carrow gets his Shield Charm up in time; Natalie, a terrified onlooker to our duel, does too. I'm not so fast.

A white-hot shard of metal slashes across my cheek. Another slices deep into my thigh. Another, an inch-long piece of wicked-sharp steel, punches a hole through my stomach. Shakily, shocked, I touch my face with a fingertip. It comes away covered in blood. _Strange_, I think, oddly calm. _It feels more cold than anything else_...

Two days earlier

"Shut your eyes."

"Okay..." I reply uncertainly, glancing warily at the unmarked door we stand before. "Er – what's going to happen?"

"You'll see," Natalie replies happily. "Now shut those eyes."

"Fine," I sigh, dutifully squeezing my eyes shut. Besides me, I feel Natalie step away, her soft, warm hand leaving mine. It's just for a moment, but...is it sad that I kind of miss her? _Merlin, that's sappy_.

"You're not just going to leave me here, are you?" I ask dryly as I hear the sound of a doorknob turning. "Because it's kind of late, and there's patrols in the corridors now, so unless you want Crabbe and Goyle to find me out here dressed in my-"

"Be patient!" Natalie laughs. "You're not peeking?"

"No," I sigh bemusedly.

"Good," I hear Natalie reply happily. In a much-quieter voice, I hear her whisper. "_Pure-blood_."

"Pure-blood?" I reply uneasily as – with a squeal of rusted hinges – the door swings open. Instantly, a light, pleasant draught brushes against my face.

"It's the password," Natalie explains.

Taking my hand, she ushers me forward into the mysterious room, her other hand placed on the small of my back. Under my robes, I'm only wearing a bikini – Natalie's instructions, and courtesy of the Room of Requirement.

"Can I open my eyes now?" I ask.

"Sure," she replies. But, before my eyes can flicker open, Natalie sidles up behind me and slips her hands over my eyes. "What's the magic word?"

"Er – please?"

"Close enough," she sighs, lowering her hands to the v-line of my robes. Immediately, my mouth makes an involuntary 'o' shape as I take it all in; the sparkling, jewelled bathtub, sunken deep into the tiled floor; the hundreds – no, _thousands_ of taps, each a different shape or size, each promising some different wonder; I even gawp at the beautiful mermaid, sleeping soundly on the far wall.

"The Prefect's bathroom," I murmur, awestruck. "Harry told me about it, but I could never have imagined...it's beautiful, Natalie."

As her exploring fingers begin to tug at the neckline of my robes, I turn to face her. There she stands mere inches away; beautiful, brunette, with a cute little button nose that crinkles when she laughs...

"Do you come in here often?" I murmur, brushing her silky dark-brown hair away from her eyes.

"Not so much," she admits. Her nimble fingers gently ease the folds of my robes apart, exposing my pale skin to the cold night air. "It's not as much fun on your own."

"I'll bet," I murmur, shivering slightly as goosebumps form on my bare arms.

"Ickle Ginny's cold!" Natalie laughs, noticing my discomfort for the first time. "Let's run a bath," she announces suddenly, stepping away towards the bathtub. In one fluid movement, she discards her robes, revealing a very – well, _revealing_ swimsuit.

"What do you think?" she says, bending over the colossal selection of taps and pipes. "There's this one tap, it makes these bubbles that-"

"Wait," I say suddenly. Joining Natalie by the taps, I turn a few at random, then take her hands in my own. For a second, I just stare at her; her sparkling eyes, her infectious smile...I take it all in.

"I _do _love spending time with you," I say hesitantly. "You know that, right? This isn't just – just a fling, or something. You know that?"

"Of course," she replies soothingly. "I love – spending time with you too. You're my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend," I repeat thoughtfully, smiling slightly. "Somehow, I'm not sure if that sounds right."

"Okay..." Natalie grins, tugging my robes apart at the waist. "You're my _lover_."

"I like that," I reply, kissing her neck softly. "You know," I whisper in her ear, "Somehow, you're even hotter in that swimsuit than you are naked."

She smiles playfully.

"Let's see yours, then."

"No, it's too cold-"

Ignoring my feeble protests, she pulls my robes off, revealing my skimpy, purple bikini.

"Aargh – it's freezing-" I moan half-heartedly. Behind Natalie, the water has reached the brim of the bathtub Hurriedly, I jump into the warm, soapy water. For a few seconds, Natalie teeters uncertainly at the edge of the water; ducking under the surface, I swim towards her. I'm right below her...

"AAARGH!" I yell, jumping out of the water to grab her arm. She screams as I pull her into the bath. We both go under, and she surfaces laughing, though her laughs are quickly stifled by a long, deep kiss.

* * *

"I can't stay," I murmur.

Natalie, cocooned in my arms as soak in the warm, bubbly water (we ditched our swimsuits a long time ago), turns to face me, frowning.

"Why?" she asks, puzzled. After a moment, her eyes widen slightly. "Is it-" she lowers her voice to a whisper- "_Dumbledore's Army_?"

"I – what – no!" I sputter unconvincingly. Natalie just gives me a knowing, amused look, and I wilt.

"How do you even_ know_ about Dumbledore's Army?" I exclaim.

Natalie scoffs.

"Well, it _was _emblazoned in twenty feet-high letters in the Great Hall last week," she points out. "And in the Charms corridor, _and _across from the statue of-"

"Okay, okay!" I say hastily, bursting to ask my next question. "Okay, Miss. Know-it-all, how do you that _I _am in Dumbledore's Army? Not that I am," I add hastily.

She smiles coyly.

"Well, it _is _kind of obvious. The sneaking off at night, the tired eyes in the morning, the paint-stains on your robes...either you're in Dumbledore's Army, you've got another girlfriend, or you're Batman."

"Batwho?"

"Doesn't matter," Natalie says quickly. "So – is it true? Are you – tonight, are you-"

"Yes," I admit sheepishly.

"That is so cool!" she exclaims. "You're like this secret rebel, fighting against the establishment to restore justice to the world."

"I am?" I reply blankly.

"Yeah," she says enthusiastically, resting her chin against my chest. "Can I come? What's happening tonight?"

"I can't tell you."

She smiles.

"Or you'd have to kill me?"

"No," I grin, "I just can't tell you. We're not very big on killing in the DA. That's kind of what the other side do."

"Oh. Can I join?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Nope."

"C'mon," she begs, twirling a finger through my hair. "It'll be fun!"

"It's too dangerous," I reply quickly. "Besides, you're only-"

"Fifteen?" she interrupts, smiling sardonically. "And you're a big 'ole sixteen year old. I'm old enough to have sex, but I can't partake in a little bit of hooliganism?"

"Nat-"

"Hey, are we illegal?" she asks suddenly, a thoughtful grin on her face. "What's the wizard law on that?"

"Wha – I – we're both underage," I say finally. "So – I suppose – two wrongs make a right?"

"Works for me," she laughs. "So – can I come?"

"No."

"Please?" She adopts a sultry, seductive tone. Leaning in close, she nibbles my ear. "I'll do _whatever _you want..."

Who could resist that?


End file.
